I should have known that if any girl was going to disobey an order, it would be you.

I wanted to be his dear, his darling.

So here I was expecting at the very best a cordial welcome from the girls who were prepared to fight me to the death for someone I didn’t want. Instead I was embraced.

It’s because I’m so good-looking, isn’t it?

But if it was always a point of speculation, where one person insisted it was a certain way and another denied it, how would anyone ever hold on to the truth?

My shoes I got to pick. I chose worn-out red flats. I figured I should make it clear from the start that I wasn’t princess material.

It was almost comforting, this mutual acceptance of our secrets.